Chapter 6

A Flight of Fancy

A s I entered the great hall, my heart felt heavy knowing it might be for the last time. It had been the only home I had known. Memories of the mother I had known had faded with time. The touch of her skin. Her smile. But here, in the hall, even the walls whispered her words. Her shadow still danced in the firelight and through the open shutter, when the wind was just right; I heard the sound of her laughter.

Of the three of us, Bethóc looked more like our mother than anyone, even though they were not related by blood. Her hair rippled and with a quick turn of her head, her blue eyes twinkled. She sat betwixt my father and her new husband. Head back and laughing. Before them, the table was laden with goose and pheasant and all manner of salmon and eel, more food than most had ever seen.

As I weaved my way through the throng, I could not ignore the sound of my father’s voice above the din, reporting his latest failed hunting party. ‘Afore the sun sets you must do me the honour of joining me in a hunt.’ He lay back lazily, rolling a hand. ‘Jarl Sigurd, we shall use spears and crossbows. Maybe even the falcons, something you will not be accustomed to.’

Falconry. Finally, something I could compete in. Maybe even upset the Jarl enough that he would call the whole thing off. He gave me a sideways glance. ‘It is something I am sure I shall manage,’ he crooned. ‘I’m sure I can even show my Lady Olith how to hunt.’

I looked at him with utter incomprehension. ‘Show me how to hunt?’ I was the most accomplished hunter in the party.

‘Olith?’ My father shook his head. ‘What would a woman want to know of hunting? It is men’s work.’ He paused a moment as though a new thought had occurred to him. It made me uneasy. ‘Perhaps it is good that she learns, given the harsh terrain on your northern isles.’

The Jarl nodded. Both men thought I was no more than an adornment for an arm.

My father rose to his feet, although dwarfed in comparison. ‘Our women are obedient, Jarl. They have all learned to weave and Bethóc shall strum something wonderful on her lute.’ He let out a laugh, ‘our women are not built for hunting. Crinnin,’ he said to my sister’s new husband, ‘have the falconer bring out the hawks.’

The Jarl sucked his tongue over his teeth as though he had tasted something that displeased him. ‘You will join us.’ He held out his hand.

I would join them, and I would show them just what a woman could do.

My father, Crinnin, Bethóc and the rest of the party headed out across the narrow walkways and into the adjacent field. The Jarl and his men followed with me hanging from his arm like a garland.

The sun had reached the highest point of its sunwise arc, though the fragments of scattered clouds cast shadows from my father’s falconers, like huge warriors against the long grass.

There were eight in total. Eight men and eight birds. More prized than any of his daughters.

The Jarl bent down to me and whispered in my ear. ‘Which hawk is yours?’

As he said it, a ninth falconer appeared with Drest gripped onto the leather of his glove. Elpin. There may have been nothing between us but in that moment, I wanted to throw my arms around him. With Drest, nothing would stop me.

‘The last one.’

I could hear the tinkle of his bell as he shook his tawny head trying to dislodge the hood. Elpin had given him to me as a gift. That bird had always been my salvation.

My father cursed under his breath. ‘I thought I’d told you, I only wanted my falcons,’ he barked at Crinnin. ‘Make no mistake,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘If you let that bastard fly, I’ll wring its neck.’

I had not come so far to simply back down.

The Jarl studied Drest with the amazement of a child. ‘Why does he not want your bird to fly?’ He had not taken his eyes off it, turning his head this way and that. Taking in every feather and every talon.

‘Women are not permitted to hunt, Jarl Sigurd.’ Crinnin answered on my behalf. ‘Do not slacken your vigilance, they can be wily creatures, the daughters of King Malcolm.’ A smile formed beneath his beard. ‘Lady Olith in particular.’

Crinnin knew of my notoriety. Strange. Mad. Peculiar. I found out later that Bethóc had told him of my wandering unaccompanied with nought but a bird on my arm.

The Jarl let out a throaty laugh. ‘All of our women are wily, it will serve her well.’ He turned to me. ‘Show me. I want to see you fly your bird.’

‘The decision is my father’s.’

‘King Malcolm.’ Sigurd shouted over the din. ‘Surely, my lord, you will see to it that I can see my new bride fly this falcon.’

‘I am still unsure about my daughter flying a falcon. It seems unnecessary.’

My father did not agree with women hunting.

‘What is it you fear my lord?’ said Sigurd.

My father was silent for a moment. It had suited him to keep me hidden. As a plaything for his drunken kinsmen when he felt like it. Now, he had to decide whether or not to reveal my true nature.

He studied the Dane. ‘Very well, Jarl Sigurd but it is unseemly for a woman to take up such a pursuit and I have never allowed my daughter lessons.’ He waved a hand. ‘But if you feel the need to insert yourself between the affairs of a father and a daughter, as her husband, I will allow it. Elpin, give it to her.’

Elpin brought Drest over, placing him on my fist. He would not look at me. He could not take his eyes off the Jarl. He crossed back to stand with the rest of the falconers.

‘It is a beautiful thing, no?’ said the Jarl.

Drest stretched out his wings, flight feathers fanned in anticipation.

‘HE is.’ I slipped the hood from his head revealing inky black eyes blinking rapidly. ‘I have given him a name.’

There was the slight flicker of a smile beneath his beard. ‘What is it?’

‘Drest.’

‘We will hunt wild quarry,’ my father shouted. ‘The first successful kill will see a winner and then we can return to our mead.’ His churchmen and bishops’ voices all grated with the falsity of their laughs.

I made those men pay, but my biggest regret was Sigurd had not been there to bear witness.

‘You must show him that you are to be treated with respect, Lady Olith,’ the Jarl said gently. ‘You are to be my wife; our women are as feared as our men. Show him. Show the King that you are a match for him.’

I sometimes wondered if he ever regretted saying those words. If he did, he did not show it. I was the scourge of kings and kin alike. I made sure that our women were more feared than our men and that those that had betrayed us paid for what they did.

In flight, Drest was the fastest. I had raced them many a time when the falconers were out practicing. He was capable of taking down prey much larger than the others. He moved like lightning. The other birds would pale in comparison.

Drest stiffened with expectation. It spread like a fever from one bird to the next. The excitement of the hunt building.

‘Release the birds,’ King Malcolm bellowed.

With a flick of my wrist, Drest was off soaring on the crest of an updraft, feathers fluttering like quills.

‘He is quick,’ said the Jarl.

‘He is,’ I found myself intrigued by his curiosity. ‘Look,’ I said as quietly as I could, drawing his attention to Drest who had begun to hover. His eye followed mine.

‘Olith,’ my father barked darkly. ‘May I speak with you?’

‘Please excuse me, Jarl Sigurd,’ I said stepping back.

My father stood with his arm shielding his eyes, squinting into the sunlight trying not to lose sight of his birds.

‘You’re making an impression on the Jarl. I want peace at our borders and the power of their army bound to me by any means we can. After you’re wed, Orkney and the rest of the northern isles will cause us no further trouble as long as you can spit him out a child.’ His brow furrowed with concentration.

‘They will treat your child with mercy,’ said the priest. ‘Olaf Tryggvason is a good Christian, but the light of Christ grows dimmer every day. It is God’s will that you should become his wife and help Christianity to flourish within the isles. It is only through our obedience that we can truly find salvation.’

‘But, father.’ I addressed the priest dutifully. ‘Was it not only just yesterday that you proclaimed I would find my salvation in my remorse when the Jarl refused my hand? Which is it, father?’ I said, knowing it would provoke a reaction.

He stared at me, but he could not hide his shock at my defiance. At least he would not hit me in public. He huffed. ‘We cannot question God’s will. It is through his love that we can defeat the pagans and bring peace to our borders.’

‘I will not disappoint you.’ I bowed my head.

At least his afternoon would not be idle, he could spend the afternoon praying for my salvation.

‘We have a meeting of the council this evening, be sure to accompany your husband,’ he said testily. ‘You will still be my eyes and ears when you are in Orkney.’

‘Aye, as you wish, Laird King.’

‘Now away with you,’ he said as I turned to make my way back to the Jarl. ‘And Olith, you know that my bird will be victorious.’

He meant to punish me if I did not lose. It lit a fire deep in my belly. I looked up at the sky again, Drest had gained any ground he had lost. The Jarl was also watching skyward, at the dark smear that was gliding gracefully. It was then it happened.

Drest caught sight of my father’s most prized bird, glittering eyes locked on its target. My heart raced. In an instant he closed his wings, dropping through the air like a stone. He caught my father’s bird off guard, slamming it sideways. The pair tumbled in a skirmish of feathers. Faster and faster before hitting the ground in the centre of the field.

Gasps rang out, mine included.

Elpin ran through the long grass to where they had fallen.

He raised his arm, showing Drest resting on his clenched fist. My father’s bird hung limply in the other, red blood smeared on its chest.

My heart hammered. I tried to stop myself from shaking, but it did not work. It had been a fatal mistake and one I would pay for.

Everyone fell silent.

‘My lady,’ the Jarl whispered in my ear. ‘I think you might have finally earned your father’s respect.’

I closed my eyes against his words.

My father was a cruel man, if I could have given Sigurd one piece of advice it would have been to never fight him. He was never to be trusted, something I would come to learn much too late.

‘Ring its neck!’ my father shouted.

‘No…’ I ran towards him, trying to catch his hand. ‘Father, please… you cannot-.’

He raised a hand to silence me. ‘When did you learn to hunt?’

‘I haven’t–I didn’t–the bird did it–’ I pleaded. ‘Laird King... –’

I felt the Jarl’s hand on my shoulder.

‘King Malcolm, I will have my Lady’s bird readied to leave on my ships tomorrow.’

The Dane was huge in comparison, towering over my father’s fine frame. The snake would strike a bargain, even though his daughter had humiliated him. His precious Alba was worth more, so much more.

‘You can have what’s left of it for quills,’ said the King.

‘I have decided.’ He spoke with deliberation. ‘As part of the Mundr, my wife will receive all of her belongings. That includes her falcon or the wedding is off.’

When he was in this mood, he always reminded me of a wolf staring down its quarry.

My father thought for a moment before raising his hand. Always thinking. Always pondering. That was always his trouble. Too busy trying to be cruel to see what was in front of him.

‘Falconer,’ he shouted, ‘have that goose boxed and ready for the Jarl.’

The Jarl bowed his head before flashing me a smile. ‘Now, Lady Olith. You are in my debt, and I think you shall repay it by teaching me how this falconry is done.’

He always was a terrible student, but this much I could say, he was always eager to learn.